


Halftime

by SomewhereApart



Category: CSI: Miami
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1969980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereApart/pseuds/SomewhereApart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Why exactly does Ryan think there's something going on between Eric and Calleigh?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Halftime

**Author's Note:**

> Every once in a while, a plot bunny hops into your brain and then proceeds to do a very Monty Python-eqsue killer rabbit thing until you satisfy it by letting it hippity hop into life on the page. This was one of those plot bunnies. I promise I will get back to the WIPs, and that I will try to subdue any other killer rabbits with... something... until they're finished! But for tonight, I offer you a rather ridiculous piece of fiction.

Ryan would be lying if he tried to deny that he loved the people he worked with. They were all supportive, all friendly, all incredibly forgiving of fuck-ups and big mistakes. And heaven knew he’d made a lot of those in his time at MDPD. Now, though, things were good, for the most part. And there was no time that was more apparent than at Natalia Boa Vista’s Super Bowl party.

Once upon a time, the annual Super Bowl party had been at Calleigh’s place, but that ended as soon as Cal got wind of the size of Natalia’s living room. Ryan wondered occasionally how many people actually bought Calleigh’s line about “getting to know the new team” when she’d talked Natalia into hosting the party her first year with MDPD. The parties had been bigger then, and required a lot of clean-up, and Ryan was pretty sure Calleigh was just sick of cleaning up after her half-inebriated coworkers -- and on a work night, no less.

Regardless, the Boa Vista party was tradition now, and the core crew was there as always: Calleigh (who, once freed from her duties as host, now rolled up her sleeves every year and treated them all to real southern fried chicken), Eric (who always showed up with a dish of what Ryan suspected was actually his mother’s picadillo, not his), Valera (the customary supplier of too much alcohol), and Ryan (who contributed the ever-important chips, salsa and guacamole).

The game had just broken for halftime, and Ryan was licking his wounds while Calleigh and Eric gloated and toasted each other with their beer bottles. For some unknown reason, they were Steelers fans (Eric would say that it was because he liked teams that actually won, and Ryan would brazenly give him the finger). And the Steelers were currently trouncing his Cardinals by a considerable margin.

“Cheer up, Wolfe,” Eric teased, reaching for some more chips and guac. “Maybe it’ll be like last year, and your pansy ass Cardinals will pull through at the last minute.”

“Hey, that ‘pansy ass’ team made it to the Super Bowl, did they not?” Ryan defended. “Let’s show some respect.”

“If I don’t will you throw the chips at the TV again like last year, because watching Talia ream your ass for that was almost better than the game,” Eric smirked.

“Wait – what? There was projectile food and angry Natalia last year?” Calleigh questioned, breaking off half of Eric’s guac-smothered chip and popping it into her mouth before he could protest. Surprisingly, Eric, who had once declared himself Lord and Protector of the Guacamole, just gave her a look – and then smirked.

“Yeah, it was _great_ ,” Natalia drawled, rolling her eyes and shaking her head. “I was vacuuming tortilla chips out of the carpet for weeks.”

“You weren’t here last year?” Valera questioned with a frown. “Why didn’t I remember that?”

“Because you were drowning your sorrows over what’s-his-face, and were blitzed before the end of the first quarter,” Eric supplied helpfully, ever the gentlemen.

“Ah, yes. Carlos. I remember now. Or, well, actually I don’t, but I remember not remembering much. And I remember there not being any fried chicken.” She cracked open another bottle of Corona and turned her attention to Calleigh again, leveling her with a look that made it clear she’d committed a serious offense. "You left us in the lurch without our fried chicken, Calleigh. We had to settle for burgers. Did you know that none of these men know how to make a proper burger?”

Ryan and Eric both “hey!”ed in protest, and Calleigh grinned and shook her head. "Well, now that is a damned shame, but I was otherwise engaged this time last year. Jake threw a party, so I did my girlfriendly duty and spent the day with him and a half dozen of his buddies."

"Wow," Valera commented with that glint in her eye that struck fear into the heart of anyone who knew her well. "If those girlfriendly duties you mentioned are anything like 'wifely duties' I bet you were very tired by the end of the day. And sore."

"Yes," Calleigh replied with more than a hint of sarcasm and a generous roll of her eyes. It was just exaggerated enough for Ryan to realize she was starting to get a bit tipsy – in that demure Southern way that only Calleigh Duquesne and other Southern Belles could get gracefully tipsy. "Just like that, Valera. Because you know how I like a good gangbang. In fact, we videotaped it. We called it _Jake and Calleigh Make a Porno_ \-- Zack and Miri send us royalty checks every month for stealing our title."

Scratch that. She wasn’t wasn’t _getting_ tipsy. The bawdy humor was a dead giveaway that she was already there. Valera, never one to miss a chance to needle Calleigh when she was buzzed, forged valiantly ahead. "Was this your porn debut, Calleigh, or did you capture that whole handcuff incident on tape too?"

Calleigh's face flamed red, and Ryan caught Natalia’s snicker out of the corner of his eye. "That would be a no, Maxine. Nobody ever has, or ever will, convince me to videotape myself during sex."

“Why not? Could be fun!”

“I’m a cop, Max,” she pointed out. “I’ve seen enough homemade porn in the lab to know that nobody ever looks as good as they probably hope they do. I’d rather not be disappointed.”

“Please. You’re probably a hot kinky rockstar, and just don’t want to leak it to the world.” Calleigh nearly knocked over the beer bottle she was reaching for, which made Ryan’s brows shoot nearly to his hairline at the terrifying idea that Valera might have actually hit a nerve with that one. Before anyone else could jump on it, though – and much to everyone's horror – Valera quickly turned her attention to the rest of the group. "Anyone else? I mean, c'mon, someone at CSI has to have videotaped themselves doing the dirty."

“I’m with Calleigh,” Natalia put in. "After working this job... no way. You’d have to be crazy."

Ryan grinned as he caught the way Eric's head ducked slightly as he scratched the back of his skull. Not surprising. Calleigh must have caught it out of the corner of her eye as well, because her jaw dropped and she jabbed a finger into his bicep. "Eric!”

“Ow!” Eric swatted her hand away and rubbed his arm with a petulant frown. “What was that for?”

“I saw that!”

"Saw what?" He feigned innocence, but not very well. Lying – especially to Calleigh – had never really been one of his best skills.

As payback for dissing his Cards, Ryan cut in and supplied, "That little head-duck thing you just did. That's your guilty move. Everyone knows."

Eric glared at him, as Calleigh continued with much more emotion than was probably necessary, considering it was really none of her business. "You made a sex tape??"

Natalia took the opportunity to defend her honor. "I would just like to state for the record that I was most definitely _not_ the co-star."

"It was a long time ago; I was young!" Eric defended. Reaching for the guac again and lowering his voice slightly, he made what Ryan would consider the first critical error of the conversation: “And she was hot."

Calleigh glared daggers at him as Valera nudged Ryan and snickered, whispering to him, "This is so much better than the game."

"That is just about the dumbest...” Trailing off and shaking her head, Calleigh huffed. “Does she still have it??"

"Uh, no…" Eric swallowed hard, looking very much the guilty boyfriend, which was interesting and new. "I, uh... I have it."

"What? Why?"

"For, uh... I don't know. Look, it’s a VHS. I don't even have a player for it anymore. It's on a shelf in my closet, collecting dust.”

"So why not get rid of it?"

"I don't know. I’m keeping it, uh... for posterity?"

Ryan suppressed a snort of amusement and stole Valera's beer for a sip. She was right. This _was_ better than the game. Eric had just made critical error number two, and was about to get his ass handed to him by Calleigh Duquesne.

"For posterity," she repeated, scoffing and shaking her head. "Men are pigs."

"What-"

"And how do your girlfriends feel about you keeping sex tapes of your exes?” She whirled to look pointedly at their host for the evening. “Natalia?"

Boa Vista raised her hands in defense and shook her head. "Whoa. Uh-uh. I'm not getting in the middle of this." Wise, wise woman, Ryan thought.

"I don't have a girlfriend right now," Eric pointed out, continuing, "And haven't for a while. Why do you care, anyway?"

"I..." Calleigh seemed to suddenly realize just where she was, what she was saying, and how it looked, because she froze and gaped like a fish for a minute as the blush crept back over her skin, deeper this time."I don't," she managed weakly, reaching for her beer and knocking back a swallow. "I just... think its tacky."

"Well, I'll throw it out when I get home, alright?" Eric conceded, and that was really interesting. What exactly was going on here?

" _No._ No." Calleigh shook her head and looked more and more like she wanted to sink into the floor and disappear. "It's your sex tape; you were, I’m sure, responsible and consenting adults. Keep it. Enjoy it. Use it as a coaster or a bookend or...whatever."

"Hey.” Eric settled a hand on her shoulder, dropped his voice a little and repeated, “I'll throw it out when I get home."

Apparently unable to bear the weight of the attention now so acutely on her, Calleigh swallowed hard, announced she had to pee, and shot up off the couch like it had jolted her with sharp electricity. She beat a hasty retreat down the hall and Eric quickly changed the subject back to the game and Harrison's 100-yard touchdown.

His glance in Calleigh’s direction did not go unnoticed, though. Certainly not by Ryan. Well, well. Calleigh and Delko. It made sense, he supposed, if you got past the slightly incestuous brother-sisterness of it all. Making a mental note to pester Calleigh about it later, he joined in the game discussion, defending his precious Cardinals to the end. Pansy ass. Yeah right.


End file.
